John Is Mean
by novadiablo
Summary: John is mean and gets kidnapped, which he deserves. Just bloody read. Oh yeah, and SLASH, like I need to say it.


**A/N: This was meant to be for The Five Times Sherlock Gets Revenge on John, but it just kind of kept going so I decided to make it a big boy fic.**

**Summary: **John is mean. I feel sorry for Sherlock in this one. Writing quiet sex is weird. Enjoy. Also, I hate Moriarty kidnappings too, it's just so mundane, but please bear with me.

**Characters: **Sally Donavan (whose name I always, without fail, spell wrong. Sorry!), Lestrade, Sherlock/John, Moriarty, Moriarty's henchmen.

**Rating/Warnings:** NC-17, really quiet sex, silent treatment, spousal meanness and ex-army doctornapping, un-beta'd fic where Sally Donavan's name is spelt wrong.

They were talking about him, Sherlock could feel it. Now, Sherlock usually didn't give a rat's arse about whether or not someone was talking about him – it's what people did (other than die, apparently). However when it was _John_ talking about him – especially with that look on his face – Sherlock felt incredibly uneasy. When it was _John_ talking to _Sally Donavan_ about him – especially with that look on him face – Sherlock felt more than uneasy.

"John!" he called shortly, "stop socialising, I need your professional opinion."

John rolled his eyes and glanced meaningfully at Donavan.

"Does he always boss you around like that?"

John sneered and nodded as he leant down over the body. "Ha, yeah! You should see him in bed!"

Sherlock furrowed his brow. That was entirely unfair! John was the bossy one in bed! But he didn't say anything – just pretended to examine the fingernails of Jeffrey and hoped John would say no more.

"Uh, no thanks, I think I'll pass," Donavan replied with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Quite attractive this one, if you can get him to shut up."

"I bet he craps on about crime scenes during sex, huh?"

"Oh yeah," John nodded vigorously, "the third time we did it I actually had to Duct Tape his mouth."

"Oh man, that bad?" Sally said, staring at Sherlock like he was some kind of alien (which he kind of looked like). "I don't know why you bother."

"Sometimes I don't either," John admitted. Sherlock knew he was joking, understood the concept in its entirety and tried to find it amusing, but really it just stung a lot.

No one made Sherlock sting, so it was time for revenge.

Sherlock give has conclusions to Lestrade and bid the team an icy goodbye before sweeping out of the scene and flagging down a cab, John barely keeping up with him. They rode home in silence.  
>Sherlock had read about the silent treatment in books, and understood that it involved not speaking to one person while treating everyone else the same or kinder. Sherlock employed this method immediately by thanking the cab driver however allowing John to pay, unlocking the door but closing it before John could reach it and bolting up the stairs and into his room, avoiding John entirely. The next day he didn't invite John to the crime scene and ignored his tea.<p>

That night John seduces Sherlock nattering away and Sherlock is silent - his willpower can't be overrun by sexual need. So when John pushes him up against the wall when he comes back and begins leaving little bite marks on his neck, sure Sherlock reciprocates, because it's called 'silent treatment' not 'ignoring treatment'. They navigate through the hall, mouths not leaving each other, and Sherlock has John's shirt off and belt half undone by the time they fall onto the bed. Sherlock hasn't made a sound. He didn't make a sound when John gave him a blow job, even though John did (and Sherlock really couldn't stop the squelching sounds), and he didn't when John slid one, two, three fingers, penis, in. As tempted as he was to moan harshly at the noises and the feel of it all, especially the incoherent words John babbled as he came, Sherlock did not even squeak.

Silence fell once they'd both spent, and Sherlock rolled over and evened out his breathing, listening to John's angry heart rate.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Sherlock? You haven't spoken to me at all today. What happened to mister blabber-mouth 'I'm so overly intelligent that I just have to tell everyone everything every moment of every day'. You're such an ignorant dickhead and I'm the only person who can put up with you and now you're pushing me away as well? For a smart guy, you're a real imbecile sometimes and I'm fucking sick of it."

Sherlock donned his dressing gown and walking into the bathroom to run cool water over his wrists – a calming technique his mother had taught him when he was ten and Mycroft was setting up running races and beating him in all of them.

John appeared in the doorway, a sheet wrapped around his hips, and leant against it.

"It's about what I said to Sally the other day?" It was a question but it sounded like a statement.

"Very clever John, good deduction," Sherlock said in a deadpan voice, not even glancing over.

"I didn't mean any of it."

Sherlock swung around very quickly and began advancing on John. "Is that so John, because I distinctly remember you outlining to Sally our third date in detail, and is that really why you wanted to try bondage, because you wanted to shut me up? Oh, and also you are not the only one who would put up with me because I have had plenty of appropriate suitors who could fulfil me just as much as you do – if not more because they certainly have more intelligence so I suppose you've learnt one thing tonight and that is to Not. Make. Assumptions." With that, he pushed past John, donned some clothes and went walking about in the dark of night.  
>This of course terrified John to no end, because he had no idea where Sherlock was. Moriarty was still wandering around somewhere, or Sherlock might be going to one of his 'suitors' or something really stupid like that lake jumping experiment he was chatting to Mrs. Hudson the other night. This fear is what led John to go wondering around London on his own which is of course how Moriarty's henchmen thought it was Christmas when they captured him so damn easily.<p> 


End file.
